


Don’t Pick a Fight With a Man With Nothing Left to Lose

by zade



Series: kinktober 2017 (oh god why) [2]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Asphyxiation, Begging, Biting, Blood, Blood Loss, Blow Jobs, Boot Worship, Branding, Bukkake, Cock & Ball Torture, Coerced Consent, Come Marking, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Egg Laying, Electricity, Emetophilia, Exhibitionism, Extremely Dubious Consent, Facials, Fisting, Gags, Gun Kink, Gun Violence, Hand Jobs, Human Experimentation, Human Furniture, Humiliation, Kinktober 2017, Knifeplay, Large insertions, Lasers, Lingerie, M/M, Massage, More Blood, More deepthroating, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oviposition, Paralysis, Public Humiliation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Scent Marking, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Strangulation, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, This is really fucked up and I'm sorry, Tooth Pulling, Tooth Removal, Tooth Trauma, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, Vomiting, Watersports, Xenophilia, actual slag tentacle monster timothy lawrence, aka a MAJOR SQUICK OF MINE COULD YOU TELL, and again i say cheers, auto knifeplay, chapter eight has:, chapter eleven has:, chapter five has, chapter four has:, chapter nine has:, chapter one has:, chapter seven has:, chapter six has:, chapter ten has:, chapter three has:, chapter two has:, edgy i know, if you think desk ornament counts as furniture, implied public humiliation, just awful, more dub-con, more tentacles, nipple clamps again, shock weapon, sorta - Freeform, this is the nastiest thing i've ever written cheers, threatening?, thresher fucking, unsafe bondage practices, vomit eating, why y'all afraid of the word cum???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-08 08:08:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12250395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zade/pseuds/zade
Summary: This is the place where my Borderlands kinktober fics live! They exist in an inexplicable au where Handsome Jack in still the CEO and Rhys works there and occasionally gets summoned for sex that is dub-con at best and sort of horrifying. They could be connected, or an infinite number of universes with an infinite number of Jack's doing pointlessly horrifying things to everyone's favorite company man





	1. Day Two: Dirty Talk and Watersports and Forniphilia

**Author's Note:**

> this chapter contains: dirty talk, forniphilia, watersports (someone pisses themselves), DUB-CON/NON-CON FINAL WARNING, cbt, nipple clamps, gags, verbal humiliation and also Jack being a Jackass as per usual
> 
> This is unbeta'd because i didn't want to inflict porn on my betas so feel free to let me know if you catch any (many) typos

Rhys really ought to have learned his lesson by now: things that seemed too good to be true usually were. He had been so excited to be summoned to Handsome Jack’s office to help him “organize his office supplies” he hadn’t even stopped to think that could mean. He knew, now.

Arriving exactly on time, Jack had greeted him with an offhanded, “you’re late,” staring at a file on his desk. Rhys stood before him, unsure of what to do, and Jack scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Get your ass up by my desk, and lose the clothes, mmk?”

Rhys hurried to follow his instructions, striping his clothes off and folding them carefully, throwing a silent celebration for interpreting the message right; Jack wanted sex. Vasquez was going to be so fucking jealous.

“Kneel up.” Jack still wasn’t looking at him, but he pointed to where he wanted Rhys to kneel, and Rhys grinned. He was an ace at blowjobs. “Here, pumpkin, hold these,” Jack said, handing him a mug full of coffee and a mug full of pens. “Straight arms. Attaboy.”

Rhys held the mugs out straight ahead, wondering for the first time if maybe he had misjudged the situation. It was…weird, but to be fair Handsome Jack would be the type to like weird sex. And it’s not like Rhys could judge him, considering Rhys is willing to do whatever it takes to make Jack happy. After making him wait for another ten minutes, Jack spun the chair towards him.

“Thanks for agreeing to help me. Just kneel there and let me play, and you’ll make it out of here alive, got it cupcake?”

Rhys nodded, embarrassingly turned on. You couldn’t exactly make it at Hyperion without some awareness that Jack could kill you at any moment, so most people made their peace with it. Rhys was no different than anyone else (except he was naked in front of the boss, that had to give him some cred).

Jack slapped Rhys across the face hard enough that his eyes started watering immediately. “Yes, Handsome Jack,” Jack said very slowly, moving Rhys’s jaw along with him, like he was a puppet.

“Yes, Handsome Jack,” Rhys parroted back hoarsely.

Grinning like a shark, Jack opened a drawer in his desk and Rhys could feel his stomach sink. He came out with a ball of rubber bands first, and Rhys closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Let’s take care of this little guy, first.” He laughed. “And I mean little, Jesus, kiddo, I figured all that tech was compensating for something, but I would have never guessed how fucking small.” He snapped a rubber band menacingly, then kneeled in front of Rhys and began winding one tightly at the base of Rhys’s cock. Jack cleared his throat, and Rhys looked up reflexively, meeting his gaze as Jack pulled the rubber band back and let it snap back sharply onto Rhys’s dick and laughed as Rhys doubled over. “Uh-uh-uh, sit back up, Rhysie. I’m not done with you.”

Rhys straightened slowly, choking in breaths. The sharp sting from the rubber band lessened slightly but the ghost of a sting remained where the rubber band sat. “Yes, Handsome Jack.”

He smacked Rhys’s cock a few more times, then wound another rubber band an inch up, snapping it a few times to watch Rhys sob and struggle, placing two more, before winding one so that it cut into the head of his cock from multiple directions, and Rhys gagged at the spectacular pain of it. Jack grinned, and placed two on his balls, separating them and stretching them further than he thought they ought to be stretched.

Rhys shook with the pain of it, focusing on the mugs and not how his entire crotch was throbbing along with his heartbeat. “Jack,” he said, after a long moment, hoping, naïvely, that he could talk some sense into the CEO.

Jack tutted, and backhanded him across the face. “We’ve been over this, kiddo. It’s Handsome Jack, got it?”

“Yes, Handsome Jack,” Rhys repeated. He wasn’t sure what Jack would appreciate more: obedience or Rhys showing how hard he could fight back, but he figured his chances of surviving seriously increased if he obeyed.

“Good. Now shut the fuck up, daddy’s playing.” He reached into the drawer and came out with two binder clips, and Rhys knew exactly where those were going.

“Handsome Jack, sir—”

Jack sighed and kicked the desk. “Jesus, kiddo, you really don’t know when to close your damn mouth, do you? Here.” He reached into the drawer again, and this time came out with a stress ball and a roll of tape. “Open up, or I’ll make you, kay?”

Rhys opened his mouth and allowed Jack to scrunch the stress ball up and shove it in his mouth. It expanded as soon as the pressure of Jack’s hand was off it, and it filled Rhys’s mouth completely, trapping his tongue where it was and putting incredibly strain on his jaw. He tried to speak around it, but he couldn’t, and gagged again for his efforts. It was stiff, and large, and he was stuck. He trembled, nervous and his arms started to bend, finally, under the weight and stress.

“Much better.” Jack started wrapping the tape around Rhys’s mouth, sealing the ball into his stretched mouth, and pushing it in further, which made Rhys gag again. “Straighten those arms kitten, or you’ll lose the other one, too.”

Rhys closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing through his nose, straightening his arms and trying to ignore the ache settling into his knees and shoulders, and the solid throbbing pain in his dick and jaw.

He opened them again when Jack started flicking at Rhys’s nipples entirely sure what was going to happen next, even as his nipples hardened like the traitors they were. Jack stared him directly in the eyes as he opened the first one and released it on Rhys’s left nipple. The pain was bright and excruciating, and Rhys screamed and curled in on his chest, tears of pain welling in Rhys’s eyes again.

“That’s what I like to see! Straight up, now, you still have one left.”

Jack opened the other clip, and set it on Rhys’s right nipple, letting it snap shut. He screamed again, chest throbbing. Rhys could stop his. He had the ability to stop this, he could put down the mugs and remove the fucking clips from his nipples, but he didn’t, he sat, face wet with tears and sweat and snot, staring up at Jack, who was grinning back at him.

“Good, now just stay there, pumpkin, until I need you for something.” Jack stood up and collapsed into his chair.

That had been almost three hours ago. Jack had paid attention to him, periodically, attaching two staple removers to the binder clips with rubber bands, so they swung when he moved, poking and prodding and increasing the ache tenfold, and snapping the rubber bands on his dick.

He was pretty sure the entire surface of his knees were just one big bruise, his jaw ached fiercely, arms shaking continuously under the strain, and the sore fiery feeling had never left his dick or nipples.

More pressing, though, was the urge to piss that had been growing for hours now. He moaned, loudly, and Jack turned to him, raising and eyebrow.

Rhys tried his hardest to convey his distress while gagged, and Jack grinned, unrepentant and cruel, and even now Rhys’s idol. He was almost sure Jack knew what he was trying to convey, how could he not, but Jack was under no obligating to make this easy on Rhys.

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted to help.” Rhys moaned again, and Jack cackled. “Oh, kiddo, do you need to take a leak?”

Blushing blotchy red, embarrassed and in pain, Rhys nodded.

“Go on then,” Jack goaded. “Do it. Nothing to stop you.”

Nothing but a handful of rubber bands and his dignity, Rhys thought bitterly.

Handsome Jack was still grinning, like he wasn’t the one who had put Rhys in this position. “Here,” he said. “I’ll help.” He swung his leg out and kicked Rhys hard, directly in the bladder.

Rhys yelped, curling instinctively, struggling to keep his arms straight as he protected himself. Jack pressed his foot back against Rhys’s stomach and pressed, ignoring Rhys’s scream, or maybe getting off on it, Rhys didn’t know what to think.

“Listen, kiddo. I’ll make a deal with you. You piss yourself, right here, right now, and I’ll let you go, okay?” Jack pitched his voice softer, seductive, like Rhys needed seduction. Jack had done nothing but hurt and abase him, and Rhys would let him do it again in a second.

Jack pushed harder and Rhys squealed, a spurt of urine dribbling out of his bound up cock.

“Keep it going,” Jack commanded, like Rhys could argue with that. Jack’s boot was a solid, painful, pressure on his bladder, and his cock kept dripping piss so slowly that it barely felt like relief.

When Jack removed his boot, Rhys was kneeling in a puddle of piss, looking at Jack desperately, and hoping that he’d be allowed to go back to his room and sleep for a week.

Jack stared him down for a moment then cackled like a hyena, head thrown back with laughter. “Fuck, princess, I can’t believe you actually did that! That’s fucked up. Who knew you were so fucked up.” After a long moment of laughter, Jack took the mugs out of Rhys’s hands and raised his eyebrow skeptically. “You’re free to go, kiddo. Have at.”

Trembling, Rhys unclipped one of his nipples, almost blacking out from the pain, then the other, leaving the binder clips and staple removers on the floor. He went for his dick, next, unwrapping his cock slowly, trying, vainly, to ignore the wetness on his cock. His fingers were clumsy, tired and twitchy, and now they probably smelled like piss—and he was going to die or embarrassment. As the sensation came back to his abused cock he screamed, the burning intensifying something fierce along the lines that had been compressed. He sat and breathed through the worst of it trying to stop the persistent tremor that had set into his limbs.

Finally, he unwrapped the tape from his face, pulling the ball from his mouth, sighing, and collapsing onto the floor, shaken and shaky.

“Get yourself dressed and then get out, I got shit to do, a company to run, people to see. Can’t waste all my time on nobodies like you.”

Rhys struggled to his feet, glancing at his clothes, not wanting to ruin them, but there was no way he was going to wander Helios naked. He got dressed, slowly, and had made it to the door before Jack spoke again.

“And get one of those cleaner bots in here. I’ll be seeing you, princess.”

The compression lines were still seared into his cock, so the nervous half chub that Jack gave him was excruciatingly painful. Even so, apparently Jack would be seeing him, and Rhys couldn’t do anything except nod. He would take what he could get.


	2. Day Four: Bukakke and Knife Play and Begging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is literally the worst i am so sorry
> 
> this chapter has: bukakke/facials, humiliation galore, begging, knife play (auto-knife play--basically Rhys is hurting himself bc Jack told him to), blood, blood loss, threatening, and Jack jacking it
> 
> unbeta'd bc i live in a SHAME CAVERN

Rhys supposed he should have been happy that at least he got to keep his clothes. He had been a little reluctant to strip for Handsome Jack (again), but had finally agreed, which turned out to be the correct choice because as soon as he was bare, Jack produced a knife and pushed him to his knees.

“Aw shucks, pumpkin, I was so looking forward to cutting your clothes off.” Jack frowned. “Apologize.”

Rhys spent a bewildered moment trying to track whatever the fuck had happened in Jack’s head before giving up and saying, “I’m sorry, Handsome Jack.” He tried not to sound strident, but it was hard for him.

Jack smiled and Rhys felt simultaneously terrified and turned on, which he thought might actually be what Jack was going for. “No no no no no no—no you’re not. Not yet.” He paced away from Rhys, then turned around to take him in. “I hate to say it, because Hyperion yellow is clearly the way to go, but I think you might look better in red.” He tossed the knife at Rhys and it skittered to the ground by his knee. He shifted his jacket so Rhys could see the gun at his hip, and he knew better than to bring a knife to a gun fight. “Pick it up, kiddo.”

Rhys did, and then blanched. It was heavier than he had expected it to be, and in his hand he understood suddenly how real this peril was. His ECHO eye chimed in to provide him with a lot of really unhelpful information about the knife and knives in general. “Jack, you don’t honestly expect me to—”

“You questioning me, Rhysie? Seriously?” Jack tsked and stalked back over to him. He loomed, threatening and imposing and really handsome. “Just for that, I’m gonna make you beg me.”

Rhys’s survival instincts went out the window and he scoffed. “Beg you? For what? To not kill me?”

“That comes later. First, you’re gonna beg me to let you cut yourself.”

Rhys could barely hear himself over the sound of his pulse thrumming in his ears. Fight or flight, he thought, or I guess stay on your knees in front of the danger. “And if I don’t?”

Jack chuckled and smiled sweetly. “Then you’re going to be leaving here out the air lock, capiche?” Rhys swallowed hard and nodded. “Good boy, Rhysie. Now ask me.”

Rhys took a deep breath. “Can I?” he asked, finally, and winced.

“Can you what?” Jack replied, all mockery.

“May I,” Rhys corrected with a frustrated sigh. He shifted the knife to his cybernetic arm anxiously, then back again. Jack raised an eyebrow. Rhys, sighed again and closed his eyes. “May I cut myself?”

“Weak.”

Rhys shuddered and tried again. “Please, Jack—Handsome Jack, please. May I cut myself? For you?”

“Attaboy,” Jack crowed. “Go on then, Rhysie, show me what you got.”

Rhys lifted the knife, tentatively, up to his pec and squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t. Why couldn’t Jack just hurt him himself and get it over with? He took a somewhat frantic breath and pressed the knife lightly to his skin. Like a band aid, he thought, and slashed it across his skin.

It was significantly more painful than a band aid. He curled into his himself, instinctively protective of himself and his cut, and ah yes, there were his survival instincts, late, as usual. The wound started dripping blood, much warmer than he expected, down his chest and glancing at it he saw that it was deeper than he had intended it to be. His hands were shaking and he pressed the flesh one to the cut instinctively. It stung like crazy, and suddenly all his senses came back to him at once and Jack was howling with laughter.

He felt betrayed, somehow, but he’s not sure if that was at himself or Jack.

Jack’s laughter subsided slowly, but his smile didn’t fade. “Jeez, you are entertaining, pumpkin. Ask me for another.”

“May I cut myself again, please? Please.” Rhys choked out, feeling sick. Jack nodded indulgently and Rhys brought the knife shakily to his stomach and slashed. It burned, too, and he felt almost giggly with pain and with fear. He put the next on the top of his thigh, and that point had to switch to his cybernetic arm because his flesh one was shaking too much.

He cut himself on the arm, the other leg, and twice more on the stomach before Jack stopped him and he dropped the knife to the ground. His torso was a mess of a blood, and it itched in the places where it had begun to dry. He felt light headed, but was unsure if that was from blood loss or just the situation at hand. He glanced up at Jack, blearily, for what must have been the first time in a while and was surprised to see Jack’s hand wrapped around his cock.

“Aw, kitten, look at you! All decked out in red.” He gestured with his open hand, and Rhys numbly grabbed the knife and handed it to him, wincing and closing his eyes as he sliced his own palm in process. “Hey, hey, hey, none of that, you should be honored to be in presence, so pay some god damn attention.”

Rhys’s head snapped up and he met Jack’s gaze. “Sorry,” he said, a beat too late. His wounds throbbed and he felt like he was moving throw molasses.

Jack huffed. “Shit, you’re so out of it kiddo. It’s a good look on you, maybe I should have you do this more often.”

Rhys could feel the tendril of fear inch up his back, but he felt disconnected from it, floating and separate and hurting.

Jack groaned, and Rhys’s brain swam trying to figure out the implications of that, but he didn’t have to think too long, because then Jack was cumming on his face, warm and wet and so gross feeling that Rhys shuddered. He reached his hand up to wipe his face and Jack smacked it down.

“Nuh-uh kitten, leave that on. Makes your face look better.” He gave Rhys a dismissive once over. “You should stop at a vending machine on your way back to work. Wouldn’t want to pass out.”

Rhys nodded and got shakily to his feet. The room spun and he was numb and tired and humiliated. He was sure if he could stop back at his room or a bathroom, or if Jack in his infinite wisdom would know. Stiffly pulling on his clothes, he decided to risk it. The humiliation of getting to his room covered in Jack’s cum would probably be enough for Jack to get off on, and if it wasn’t, well, he’d deal with that next time he supposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i am gabe racetrackthehiggins and please help me oh god


	3. Day Nine: Asphyxiation and Lingerie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly how could I not do Handsome Jack on asphyxiation day c'mon that's his SIGNATURE
> 
> this chapter contains: strangulation and lingerie and angry!Jack and Rhys acknowledging that Jack has killed just a fuck ton of people
> 
> unbeta'd etc., hit me up for typos

Rhys was a good Hyperion employee, and so when his back hit Handsome Jack’s desk, he had a breathless moment of recognition of the number of people who had died there on there, followed by an actual breathless moment as Jack’s hand clamped down on his windpipe. Rhys flailed scratching desperately at Jack’s arm, but even if Jack hadn’t disabled his cybernetic arm and ECHO eye with an EMP pulse, he didn’t have the strength to fight him off.

Handsome Jack had him pinned, and leaned over him snarling. “I was trying to do something nice for you, for a change. And you had to go and frickin’ ruin it!”

Rhys’s throat worked hard against Jack’s palm, trying to swallow, trying to draw breath. “Sorry,” Rhys gasped, and Jack pushed down harder, completely cutting off his air. He pulled at Jack’s arm, and when that didn’t work, he kicked out hard, but Jack was a solid presence above him and Rhys wasn’t much of a fighter.

“All you had to do, was make yourself look pretty and get your ass up here! Didn’t think it would be too hard for you, princess.” Jack’s face was enraged, as angry as Rhys could remember seeing him, glaring and scowling. The edges of flesh he could see around the mask were red, a sharp contrast to the mask he wore.

The worst part was, it really had been that easy. Rhys had woken up to a package at his door, and opened it to find lingerie, the nice stuff, black and silky. He had donned them at once: a black silk waist cincher, silk panties, a garter belt and thigh-high stockings with a line up the back. One of the stockings had gotten caught on a hinge in his arm and ripped a small hole, but Rhys had been more careful after that, and had assumed that it would remain unnoticed.

The hand at his throat said otherwise.

“I bought you the nice stuff, wasted money on your ass!” He squeezed, two handed, and Rhys’s vision whited out for a second. “If I’d known you were going to dress like a cheap hooker, I would have treated you like one.”

Rhys wondered what Jack had been doing these last weeks, if not treating him like a cheap hooker, and then couldn’t think much of anything beyond the heaviness in his head.

Handsome Jack released him, and Rhys flopped onto his side, clutching at his throat with his flesh arm and gasping desperately. Air burned going down his throat, and his limbs felt sore like he’d been running. There were tears on his face and he panted, frantically.

Tassiter had been killed right there. No doubt countless others.

Jack slammed his hands down on the desk and Rhys flinched. His throat was so sore, and Jack was already resting his big hand across Rhys’s throat again. It was barely pressure, but even that hurt against his abused throat. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just kill you now.”

“Please let me go.” Rhys swallowed, and was surprised at how much it hurt. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me,” Rhys said, hoarse and breathy.

Jack cackled. “You think I need your permission for that?” He pushed down hard again and Rhys’s air was cut off. His hand went frantically to Jack’s trying to dislodge him. “You’re funny, though, I’ll give you that. Tell you what,” he said, smirking. “You survive a few more a few more rounds with hands around your neck, you can keep asking me to let you go. And maybe I will. How good are you at holding your breath?”

A few more rounds took close to an hour, and involved pressure to the point where Rhys was sure his face was turning blue. Rhys was almost overjoyed, though, when Jack began stripping Rhys one handed. “Finery,” he explained tersely, “is wasted on you.” Soon Jack had stripped completely save for the ripped stocking, and was pushing Rhys, woozy, to the door. “Get out of my sight. You can keep the stocking though. But don’t worry, kitten, I’ll take it outta your paycheck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now just imagine rhys walking back to his room through Helios in a single ripped stocking and nothing else


	4. Day Ten: Edgeplay and Gun Play (or more accurately Guns and Electricity)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has: gunplay with a shock weapon! and nothing remotely sexual! it's literally just Jack hurting Rhys with a shock weapon and I got nothing
> 
> unbeta'd and TERRIBLE

“Nice, right? It's the newest Hyperion model, got the prototype in here special for you.”

It was nice, aesthetically. Yellow and black, like most of their guns, and a bit boxy for Rhys's personal taste, but still, nice. It would have been nicer, he thought, if it wasn't currently shoved down his throat.

Handsome Jack grinned and applied more pressure. Rhys gagged, instinctively lifting his arms to the thing that he was choking on. It was unnecessarily cruel, he thought, that Jack insisted on him staying in place through sheer will power, instead of the mercy of tying him down. “Uh uh uh, hands down, pumpkin. You're a crucial part of weapons testing right now, so don't mess it up.”

Jack waggled the gun up and down in a parody of a nod. Rhys's throat spasmed around the hard metal and his abs clenched hard as he tried to fight down the urge to vomit. He was naked, which made it worse, because he could see how much Jack liked it when his stomach muscles spasmed.

Rhys wondered what the monstrosity down his throat was called. Probably something like Actualized Synergy or Win-Win Negotiation. His gag reflex triggered again, and his eyes watered.

“I made some modifications personally. Unshielded, a single headshot from this puppy would absolutely kill you.” He leered. “Thanks to my genius modifications, you'll be fine. Probably. But just in case...”

Rhys felt panic rise in him like a tidal wave, and it was in no way lessened by the fistful of Insta-Health Vials he pulled out of his pocket. The panic, and the gun pressing into his throat, made it harder to breathe. He was going to pass out if he kept breathing like this, but he couldn't seem to make himself stop.

“Hey, none of that now. You should be thanking me! Just imagine if that was an incendiary or corrosive weapon. Or slag! Man, kiddo, I've got to show you the long term effects of slag on the human body sometime—it's crazy gross. Anyway, cheers, pumpkin,” he said, and fired.

The burn started at the back of his throat, sudden and all consuming. It spread down his throat like lava, and then his entire body was spasming with it, shaking and twitching and his arm lay unresponsive next to him. Every nerve burned and he could see faint blue lines arching across his skin. The pain petered out a few seconds later and Rhys realized he was sobbing when he tried to take a breath. Half blind and every inch throbbing, Rhys also realized he was flat on his back when Jack kneeled down over him.

Shock weapon. Activized Synergy, maybe. He’d have to suggest it to Jack when his limbs were under his own control again.

“Please,” Rhys rasped, throat throbbing with leftover electric burning. The port in his head was still throbbing and his eye twitched. 

Jack chuckled, pressing the gun against Rhys’s nipple, and more pertinently, his heart. “You lived, didn’t you? Clip’s only got four shots, and if you can last for all four, I’ll give you a reward, mmk kiddo? Bang,” he said, and fired again.

Rhys’s back arched and he shook as the electric current overtook him, twitching and spasming beneath Jack. It took longer to come down from this time, quaking and burning long after the electricity had faded. His face was wet with tears and snot and sweat, and he was choking out wet, heaving sobs. 

“Two more, pumpkin!” Rhys sobbed, trying to curl into himself, but Jack shoved him onto his back again. “I’ll even let you pick the spot this time. You have ten seconds to tell me, and I promise I’ll shoot it wherever you ask. Ten. Nine.” 

Rhys’s tongue twitched, his throat was dry.

“Eight. Seven. Six.”

He made a frantic, nonsense noise. 

“Five. Four. Three.”

Leg, he thought, say leg. He choked on his own lolling tongue, desperately trying to say anything.

“Two, and…one! Time’s up, kiddo. Guess it’s dealer’s choice.” Handsome Jack lowered the gun to Rhys’s balls, nestling it under his dick. “Might want to hold onto something, princess,” he said, and fired again.

It was worse. The current spread the lingered like before, but the pain at the core of him, in his balls and stomach and spine like a vice, tightening and burning and searing him to the bone. He was so overwhelmed that he curled into a ball and barely managed to turn his head before he vomited.

Jack prodded Rhys onto his back again, and Rhys had no strength or muscle control to stop him. “One left, kiddo. You need some health? I can give it to you now, or I can give it to you after we’re done here. If you take it now, it’s going to be worse for you. Way worse. But more fun for me. Your choice, though, princess. Want it now?”

Rhys managed a small nod. There was no way he was going to make it through another shot without health.

 

Jack chuckled, then stabbed him in the thigh with a vial of Health Now, and Rhys collapsed as the pain faded slightly. His muscles loosened and his nerves calmed down, and he had one terrible moment of clarity and terror before Jack leveled the gun at his flesh eye. “This is going to suck for you, kiddo. Strap in.”

He fired and Rhys forgot how to breathe. The pain tore through him like a lightning strike and he could feel his head banging repeatedly into the floor and fingers and toes curling as every muscle tightened and spasmed and hurt. His port was burning, his ECHO Eye must be scorching through his skull. He was crying, screaming, maybe. His mouth was dry and his lungs weren’t moving and he was going to die here, on the floor, with Handsome Jack laughing at him.

“That was frickin’ hilarious!” 

Rhys managed to open his eye (even though it was bruised, swelling, he might end up with a black eye if his eyelid ever stopped twitching) and turn to Jack.

“Changed my mind, cupcake. You take a breather, I’m going to reload, and then we’re going to do this again, and again, and again. Get ready for a long night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk i guess assume Jack made Rhys give him a bj after??


	5. Day Twelve: Master/Slave (sort of) and Tentacles and Hand Jobs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY first off, Timmy's in this chapter and he's also a tentacle monster (ELDRITCH HORROR) from Eridium poisoning and slag experimentation. Zarpedon said it only took her people a week to feel the effects of Eridium and let's face it if you're as bad a player as me you were definitely struggling through the end of the game for at least a week. Basically, Tim was suffering effects, Jack locked him up in a lab and let Saumels fuck him over with slag. SO THERE'S YOUR HORRIFYING BACKSTORY
> 
> this chapter contains: tentacle sex (and everything that goes along with that), a hand job (edgy), sort of m/s stuff in that everyone has to do what Jack says, coerced consent/dub-con/non-con, deepthroating, also biting and blood oops forgot those, and the steadily growing knowledge that I think in this series Jack finds this shit fun and not really sexy which is unintentional and possibly MORE horrifying

Handsome Jack led Rhys down to R&D with the warning that if he asked any questions before they arrived, he’d lose the ability to speak, which Rhys wasn’t willing to risk. He made sure to memorize everything he could, if only to hold it over Vasquez’s head. There was no one in R&D, which was not necessarily strange. The staff of R&D changed a few times a month, either because Jack killed them all, or one of their experiments did, so from what Rhys had heard, and empty department was eerie, but not unusual.

He stopped outside a dimly lit glass enclosure, and Rhys barely stopped himself from running into Jack’s back. “Here we go, cupcake! This is the big surprise.”

Rhys looked into the enclosure and tried to make sense of what he was seeing, but he couldn’t tell much beyond humanoid and glowing purple, even with his Echo Eye. “What is that?”

Jack smirked. “I told you I’d show you the effects of slag on the human body. Well, to be fair, he’s suffering a double whammy of slag and pure Eridium, but that right there is what happens when anyone who isn’t a siren spends a little too long with the purple stuff.”

Rhys’s eyes widened. “That was a person?” The figure walked to the glass and glared. His face was scarred and covered in purple growths but he looked an awful lot like Jack, so much so that Rhys wondered if Hyperion had very quietly mastered cloning.

“Yup!” Jack saluted at the figure and then frowned. “His name was Jimmy? Or, uh, crap, I knew this. What’s your name, again?”

The man bared his teeth. “My name is Jack.” He sounded exactly like Jack, which was a little off putting considering he was purple, maybe also a little slimey looking, and possibly had some extra appendages.

Jack chuckled, shaking his head. “Attaboy.”

Rhys looked back and forth between the two. “I’m confused?” Rhys gave the man (possibly also named Jack) a once over, and realizing he was naked, another couple more up-downs. If cocks were anything to go on, they were almost identical.

“He’s one of my doubles, you know, for security reasons. Or, he was, anyway. Now he’s my most favorite part of R&D and a poignant warning about reading the fine print.” He turned back to face the other Jack. “Learned your lesson, though, didn’t you, Timtam?”

The other Jack growled.

Jack turned back to Rhys, smiling too wide. “Wanna meet him? Dear Timothy gets really lonely in there. Plus you’d have a story to tell all your little friends.”

Rhys swallowed hard. He didn’t think for a second that this was a question Jack would accept the answer “no,” to. “I…er, yeah. Okay.”

Jack’s smile turned distinctly sinister, and Rhys’s stomach clenched in fear and anticipation. “Attaboy.” He pushed a couple buttons on a control panel and a wall parted.

“Why doesn’t he just run out?” Rhys stepped hesitantly over to the doorway, heart beating hard like a kick drum. Getting into a glass case with an Eridium Monster was probably not the best decision he’d ever made, but Rhys probably had experienced worse at the hands of Handsome Jack. Maybe. Hopefully.

“He knows what will happen if he doesn’t do what he’s told. Like you.”

Also, there was that. Rhys cautiously stepped into the enclosure and the glass closed behind him. There was nothing else in the case except himself and Other Jack, who was possibly called Timothy. Rhys opted to go with that, if only to differentiate. 

Timothy stalked towards him and pushed him up hard against the wall, stepping close and glowering. “What’s he doing?” Rhys asked, voice breaking slightly. Up close, Timothy was glowing, and clammy, and had a mess of purple of appendages that seemed to be sprouting from all over.

He could barely see Jack over the mass of Timothy, but his voice was amplified by a speaker into the enclosure, so Rhys could hear the sheer amusement in Jack’s voice. “Well, Timmy here came to us straight out of college, and let me tell you, before they fixed him up to look like me, he was a dorky little nobody, and he hasn’t seen anyone not in white coat since the Vault opened. So I imagine my little monster here is looking to finally lose his virginity.”

Rhys inhaled sharply. Timothy was leaning up against him now, with his strangely “You aren’t asking me to—”

“Nah,” Jack said laughing. “I would never ask you to do anything. I’m telling you, and I’m expecting you to listen, or I’ll let him tear you to pieces. He’s got a lot of anger I’m sure he’d like to let out. Isn’t that right, buddy?”

Timothy growled. “Yes.” His placed his hands against the glass on either side of Rhys’s head and tilted his head, moving towards Rhys like he meant to kiss him. “Jack said I get to fuck you. Take off your clothes.” Tim backed off quickly, giving Rhys space to comply.

Rhys started hyperventilating, but undressed. Timothy’s eyes were purple and so bright it was hard to look at, but his face—the most human part of him and also the most Jack-looking part—shined with the same sort of blatant brutality that Jack frequently had before he hurt Rhys, and Rhys was not dumb enough to hope that a Vault Hunter would be merciful. He folded his clothes and then stepped backwards, effectively trapping himself against the wall, like an idiot.

Timothy smirked and quickly cornered him again. Rhys tried to take a steadying breath, but Tim was on him in a second, biting into his neck so hard that he could feel it when his skin broke. 

“Fuck!” Rhys screamed, and tried to fight him off, pushing at his shoulders hard and trying to squirm his way away, even though Timothy still had a mouthful of his neck. The appendages shot out like a whip, pinning his wrists to the glass as two more hooked around his knees and pulled them wide and off-center. They were cold and moist, but stronger than Rhys would have expected. Rhys tried frantically to free his arm, and staring at his wrist he saw that the appendages were honest to god tentacles and he started pulling harder.

Timothy released his neck, pulling back to grin at him with bloody and teeth and said, in a pitch-perfect Jack voice, “Kitten, behave.” 

Rhys’s neck was throbbing, his heart was racing, and he couldn’t seem to take a deep breath. He tried to kick off the tentacle on his leg, but it pulled him further off center, and then he was lifted off the ground completely, supported only by Timothy’s tentacles. “Jack! Jack, I can’t—help me, please! Jack!”

Jack sauntered up to the glass wall closest to Rhys and lifted his eyebrow. “You heard him, kitten. Behave.” The metaphorical floor dropped out from beneath him, and Rhys could feel himself hyperventilating again. “Looks like Timmy has a friend he wants you to get acquainted with. Open up.”

There was a tentacle, purple and thick, poised a few inches in front of his face. It was coming out Timothy’s shoulder, maybe, and all his skin looked gelatinous, molding and unmolding and shifting and changing. Tim lifted an almost humanoid hand up and wrenched Rhys’s jaw open and shoved the tentacle in.

It was cold and slimy and felt as though it should be squishy, but it was unyielding as it pushed into throat like a steel pipe. It was somehow worse than that, though, because it was undulating, twitching and pressing into every inch of his esophagus in the way that Rhys had never experienced, and that was sickening and violating and he gagged violently around the intrusion.

“You gonna fuck him, Jimmy?” Jack asked. “I know your brain’s a little funny from all the slag, but you’re going at it from the wrong end.”

At Jack’s suggestion, another tentacle began probing around his ass, and Rhys would have screamed if he could have drawn more than an ounce of breath. Timothy placed a hand at Rhys’s hip, and slid the other one around Rhys’s cock, tightening it around his length and beginning to stroke. The tentacle at his ass dipped inside, very wet and long and shockingly cold and Rhys hated it. Rhys clenched tightly around it, but he couldn’t do anything to remove it.

He moved his free hand to Rhys’s neck, squeezing over the bloody bite mark, and pressing in hard against the wound. Rhys tried to scream at the pressure at his neck and ass, fighting as hard as he could against the binds on his hands and feet, and choking on the tentacle buried in his mouth. His face felt hot and his eyes were watering at the intrusion, and this was way worse than most of things Jack had put him through. He screamed again, suddenly enraged at Jack for putting him through this.

“Don’t be like that,” Timothy purred, leaning to maul the other side of his neck.

Through the tinny speakers, he heard Jack huff. “I told my dearest double here that you’d show him a good time, not do your best impression of a blushing virgin.”

Rhys tried to pull away again, but he had no traction. The tentacle at his ass was burrowing deeper, further than anything ever had before. Not fucking, not really, just filling him completely and sort of wiggling, disgusting and base and wrong. He knew it was impossible, but he felt sudden worried that the protrusions were going to go all the way through him, connecting in the middle and destroying him from the inside out.

He was crying, still furious, as Timothy started kissing at the bite marks, still stroking Rhys through the discomfort. To Rhys’s eternal shame, the combination of the very strange penetration and the hand on his cock was enough to get him pretty hard, or maybe it was just Pavlovian, and all he needed was Jack’s eyes on him, regardless of the situation, which was a horrifying revelation he would have to deal with at some point.

Timothy’s head lowered to nip at Rhys’s chest, leaving blood kiss marks in his wake. Rhys was revolted to find that Timothy’s head had lowered, but his body hadn’t moved; his head had shifted down his gelatinous torso like sliding through water. Rhys could barely curb the need to vomit.

Jack’s laugh sounded even less concerned than normal through the speakers. “Jesus, kiddo, we did a number on you. I have to hand it to Dr. Samuels; she’s willing to do anything for that wifey of hers.”

Timothy growled. The hand on his dick was joined a tentacle, cool and wet and horrifying, but the shock of it pushed Rhys over the edge, and he swore he could feel the tentacle absorbing his cum. The hand released him, although the tentacle did not, and Rhys tried to shake off the protrusions again. 

The tentacles in his mouth and ass were expanding and growing rigid. He couldn’t breath around the one in his throat anymore, and the one in his ass was so wide and wiggling so far into his intestines, he was sure it would shred him from the inside. They stiffened, tightening down on Rhys’s limbs and his sore cock, and then he was faced with the unsettling feeling of his stomach filling without him being able to taste anything. They retracted quickly, dropping Rhys suddenly, leaving him collapsed on the floor and vomiting up what he could only assume was purple mutant cum.

Rhys’s throat was sore and burning from the purple ooze, and his belly was distended with it. He vomited again, trying to pull himself slowly away from Timothy, whose form was solidifying into a more humanoid version of himself, face completely blank. Rhys got his hand on the part of the glass that he knew opened, but it stayed resolutely closed. He could feel a cold tentacle slowly curl around his ankle and he slammed his fist into the glass harder.

Jack ignored him, bent over laughing. “Seriously, that was freaking hilarious. I’ll have to pair you two together again! But I got some more time. You rest up, kitten, I think Timtam’ll be ready for another round once when you wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd like to apologize to my family for WRITING THIS SHIT


	6. Day Seventeen: Blood/Gore and Massage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tooth trauma is a major squick of mine, so I wrote some tooth trauma!!!!
> 
> this chapter contains: a massage that is also a trap, non-con use of paralytic drugs, NON-CON TOOTH-REMOVAL, me screaming at the top of my lungs
> 
> unbeta'd bc ughhhhhh

Rhys was beginning to think he might be some sort of idiot. It wasn’t that he was so into Handsome Jack that he forgave the other man the really awful, painful, and degrading things he had done to Rhys, except it sort of was. Rhys didn’t forgive him, exactly, but he did keep coming back, and he’d turned down the transfer to another planet he was offered, and always, always stupidly believed Jack when Jack greeted him with kindness.

“Hey, Rhysie, thought we could try a little something new today.” Handsome Jack looked practically gleeful, and if Rhys had any sense of self-preservation at all, he would have been afraid instead of sort of excited. “It’s a big thing I got planned, so get naked, I’m gonna help you relax a little.”

Rhys stripped down quickly, used to this part of the agenda, and Jack led him to a small wheely bed, covered in white sheets. It made his stomach turn a little, but seeing it in Jack’s office, he couldn’t quite figure out why. He almost had it, when Jack closed a big hand around his shoulder and he shivered, mind going unhelpfully blank.

Jack smirked, and gestured to the bed with a sharp flick of his head. “Hop up, on your stomach pumpkin, I’m gonna show you what Handsome Jack here can do with his hands.”

He lay on his stomach and spent a moment trying to find a balance between his optimistic excitement and growing anxiety that he couldn’t see Jack at all and had no idea what he was going to do. He jumped, tensing, when Jack bit his ear, much closer to him than he thought Jack was.

Jack laughed, too close to Rhys’s ear still, and Rhys tensed further. “Now, now, Rhysie, this is going to be counterproductive if you get all tense on me.” He lay his massive hands on Rhys’s back and began to rub the tension out of it, which was sort of not at all where Rhys thought this situation was headed. “Relax.”

Jack kneaded his back carefully, like this was the sort of thing he had experience in, and despite the fact that Handsome Jack was the most dangerous man Rhys was likely to ever meet, he found himself actually relaxing. He sighed, sinking further into the bed. He supposed it was sort of what he had coming, when he felt a sudden sharp stick in his neck, and suddenly he couldn’t move—and oh, fuck he couldn’t move.

Jack was laughing somewhere outside of his range of vision. “I cannot believe you are this gullible! It’s sad, honestly. I barely put work into this plan and clearly, clearly I could have put even less. I could have just been like, ‘hey Rhys, lie down on this hospital bed and inject yourself with this stuff,’ and you would have totally done it!”

Rhys wasn’t entirely sure that he was wrong, and as Jack rolled him onto his back, he remembered where he had seen a bed like this before: the agonizing hours he had spent in the med bay while they had calibrated the nerves in his prosthetic arm. Rhys would have been panicking if any part of him was actually listening to his brain and the commands he was trying to send from it. Jack rolled him onto his back without paying too much attention, and Rhys’s head hit the railing hard. His vision blacked out for a second and when it came back he saw Jack pulling a shiny tray towards them. Out of the corner of his eye Rhys could see the tray was filled with metal tools and his breath stuttered.

Jack’s leaned over, very close to Rhys’s face and smirked. “Going forward in your life, assuming you live much longer, I would recommend you be more cautious, dumb-dumb.”

Rhys was almost certain he would take that under advisement. He tried to nod his head, but everything was unsettlingly still. His heart was thumping heavily in his chest, but even his fingers wouldn’t twitch on his command. Jack took his jaw in hand and manually forced it open, levering it with a metal gag that stretched his mouth far wider than was comfortable.

It occurred to Rhys right then, he might be paralyzed but he could still feel pain, which was suddenly overwhelmingly frightening. He sincerely doubted that Handsome Jack had trussed him up to do something enjoyable, or even just not painful.

Jack leaned out of his field of vision, then came back gripping a pair of metal pliers with a yellow handle. “For someone with such a big frickin’ mouth, you’ve got tiny jaw capacity, which is just silly really. So I figure, I take a couple things out, make more space so I can shove my fist down your throat when I want. Nice, right?”

He dipped the pliers into Rhys’s mouth and Rhys could feel his eyes widen in terror. The pliers settled on his back right molar and Rhys tried to speak or scream, tried to get Jack to back off or give him time or numb him or anything. If he could, he would be screaming, he was sure. 

Jack was grinning, mask stretched grotesque, and chuckled. “Take a deep breath, kiddo. This’ll hurt like hell.”

Jack tightened the pliers around the tooth and yanked. Rhys’s jaw cramped up almost immediately, throbbing and aching, but not budging.

“Son of a,” Jack muttered, and pulled harder.

When the root actually gave, the tooth gave a little with a sickening pop, and then there was another agonizing pull. Rhys’s mouth was burning, a sharp, horrifying pain, and then his mouth filled with a copper taste as the cavity gushed blood. Jack held the tooth directly in front of Rhys’s face, and it was surprisingly small to have caused so much pain, and a drop of blood fell off the thing, landing on Rhys’s cheek.

He wanted to puke, but instead he started uncontrollably coughing as the blood ran down his throat, and he gagged at the taste, still coughing.

“What do you think? Three more? Seven? Don’t want to make your face more lopsided than it already is.” Jack leaned very close to Rhys, leering. Rhys coughed again, and the blood splattered across Jack’s mask, making his smile look even more deranged. Jack picked up a hunk of gauze and jabbed it roughly into Rhys’s aching gum. “Can’t have you bleeding out from a couple of measly teeth, now can we?”

His jaw was still aching, and he could feel his cheek beginning to swell, possibly his whole head, and the ache reverberated up his skull and down his neck. Rhys couldn’t imagine going through this one more time, let alone three or seven, or on and on until he didn’t have any teeth left.

Oh fuck, he thought frantically. Jack wouldn’t do that, would he? The taste of blood was heavy on his tongue, and he could feel the sweat beading at his forehead. His mouth ached fiercely and he tried to make any kind of noise, finally managing a feeble moan. He could tell he looked panicked because Jack laughed.

Jack leered again, moving the pliers to the other back bottom molar. “Gonna do a few more, then shove my cock down your throat, mmk? Say ‘ahh.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you're welcome i guess i don't even know anymore


	7. Day Nineteen: Scent Kink and Nipple Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sick so if this is incomprehensible i'm really sorry <3
> 
> this chapter has: bondage, cum-marking/scent marking, nipple clamps, sex toys under clothes, really unsafe bondage practices

Rhys was disgusting—like possibly he had reached the Spontaneously Die of Gross stage of being. He had spent the whole previous day and much of the night tied beside Handsome Jack’s desk and all but systematically covered in cum, which was way more gross feeling that he had expected. His arms had been bound behind him, cinched at the wrist and elbows, and thankfully, cross-legged instead of on his knees, but after many hours his tailbone and hips were feeling achy and bruised. 

“You smell like a cheap whorehouse,” Jack had told Rhys, rubbing cooling cum onto Rhys’s skin and hair and grinning. It dried, visible and itchy and torturous, and he was tied in such a way that he could do anything but sit there and bear it. “Like, I mean really cheap. Hand-jobs for a buck fifty cheap.”

Rhys had sat and persevered all night, mostly by reminding himself that once the morning came, he would be set free (probably) and be allowed to take the longest most thorough shower of his life. His arms had long since fallen asleep, and his ass and back felt sore and tight, but the insufferable itch on his face and abdomen were somehow worse and more present.

When Jack finally came to release him, he untied Rhys efficiently, letting Rhys collapse and writhe as he was overcome with the feeling of pins and needles in his arms and legs. By the time he regained feeling in his extremities and remembered that there was flaking cum on him that he should absolutely be scratching off, Jack was back in front of him with Rhys’s clothes, staring at him implacably.

“Stand up and get dressed—you’re late for work, kiddo.” Handsome Jack threw the clothes at his feet and crossed his arms, imposing and unimpressed. 

Rhys reached for his clothes gingerly, muscles still tight and sore, and he was practically counting down the seconds until he could spend forty minutes in his shower letting the hot water fix what Jack had wrecked. “Work. Right, I’ll be sure to go to that after I shower for the rest of my life.”

Handsome Jack chuckled softly, which got Rhys’s hackles rising more than Jack’s yelling had. “Yeah, no. You’re going to get dressed and you’re going to go to work, and then you’re going to come back here at lunch, and if you’ve washed any of it off you, any tiny fleck of jizz, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your short, short life.”

Rhys swallowed with an unfortunately audibly gulp, which only made Jack’s grin grow. “Yes, Handsome Jack.” He stood, awkwardly, back popping loudly, and he tried to stretch quickly, but chickened out under Jack’s heavy gaze. He pulled on his underwear and pants together, fumbling the zipper twice because his hands were shaking violently. He pulled on his shirt but before he could fumble the buttons, too, Handsome Jack was striding towards him.

“Uh-uh-uh.” Jack slapped his hands away from the buttons and pulled two metal somethings out of his pocket. He reached out, snagging one of Rhys’s nipples between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing tight. “Take a deep breath, Rhysie, and keep your hands by your sides.” 

Rhys realized the metal somethings were clamps right before one closed around his nipple, much tighter than he was expecting, and he doubled over with the pain of it. He clenched his fists, barely managing to keep them up as his sides, but Jack was reaching for his other nipple even as he was still trying to breathe through the first one. The second one went on just as painfully, and as Rhys gasped, Jack began buttoning up Rhys’s shirt.

Jack leaned in close, sniffing him—fuck, literally, actually smelling him—and then he laughed. “Yeah, that’s gonna be pretty noticeable, princess.”

Rhys’s hands were shaking, but at least he wouldn’t have to try and button his shirt. “I don’t think I can keep these on and get work done.”

Jack frowned, handing Rhys his vest, which he carefully put on. “Don’t remember asking you.”

Glancing down he saw how obvious the nipple clamps were through his shirt and the embarrassment from that eclipsed the embarrassment from smelling like cum for a solid twenty seconds, then Rhys frowned. “Is it—is it safe?”

Handsome jack shrugged, looking completely nonplussed. “Don’t know, don’t care. When you come here at lunch time, I’ll take ‘em off. Work some feeling back into your chest and then put them back on for the rest of the day.”

“Jack—”

Jack’s face went from nonplussed to angry in a millisecond. “You questioning me, Rhysie? You wanna go down that road?” Rhys shook his head frantically and Jack laughed. “Good. Now get out of here. I don’t want to see you back for another three or four hours, pumpkin.”

Rhys left quickly, worried if he stayed longer Jack would somehow make it worse, and resolving to spend his day hiding in the bathroom. Jack probably wouldn’t check. Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all i am tired af good night


	8. Day Twenty-Four: Exhibitionism and Fisiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the anon who asked for rhys being used during a meeting! i tried really hard but today was a chaotic day--still, i hope it meets your standards!
> 
> this chapter has: exhibitionism, public humiliation, blow jobs, fisting, the threat of double fisting, and the threat of future gang-bangy blow jobs. p tame honestly

It wasn’t the first meeting that Rhys had gone to in Handsome Jack’s office, but it was the first that he had been told he was expected at by the boss himself. Despite the fact that Vaughn had been (cautiously) excited for him, Rhys was a little apprehensive.

Probably because most times he ended up in Jack’s office, he had days of bruising to show for it.

His plan was simple: show up on time, be unobtrusive, use whatever he learned in the meeting to attempt to leverage a promotion. His whole plan was thrown out of whack by a Claptrap that had broken the elevator by attempting to fuck it, and by the time he got to Handsome Jack’s office, all of the department heads were gathered in a half-circle around Jack’s desk, and they all turned when the door shut behind him.

Jack was grinning, which was sort of unsettling, sitting back in his chair with his feet up on the desk. Rhys stood stock still, frozen and unsure of what he was supposed to do. “Ah, Rhysie! Good of you to finally make it. If you had taken any longer, I might have had to take Nakajama up on his offer.”

Rhys glanced at Nakayama, who glared at him, so Rhys went back to staring at Jack, which was at least something he was used to. “Sorry, uh, Handsome Jack, sir. There was a Claptrap—”

“Uh-uh-uh. None of that, cupcake. There is always a Claptrap unit wreaking havoc somewhere, and yet everyone else made it here on time.” Jack swung his legs off the desk and leaned forward, smirking dangerously. “But you’re here now, so get with the program and come put my dick in your mouth.”

Rhys brain went unhelpfully quiet. “Excuse me?” he said after a long moment, glancing between Jack and the gathered department heads, all of whom were looking at him like he was an insect.

Jack’s smile fell slowly, until he was glowering at Rhys. “I think you’ve wasted enough time already. If I were you, and I wanted to make it to the end of this meeting, I’d get my ass over here.”

Rhys wasn’t sure why he thought that this meeting wouldn’t end with him on his knees. It seemed silly, now, in retrospect. He glanced over at the department heads again, and then turned a pleading look to Jack, who laughed.

“Aw, pumpkin! You shy? Don’t worry, these pencil-pushers love a good show. No one’ll mind, isn’t that right, eggheads?” 

Rhys knew that no one would speak up, but he found himself looking at them hopefully, anyway. After a long moment of no reactions, Rhys gave in and hung his head, walking sullenly over to Jack’s desk.

“Cut the attitude kiddo,” Jack said warningly, and Rhys hurried his walk, sliding behind Jack’s desk and kneeling between his legs. Rhys reached up to Jack’s fly, closing his eyes and trying to keep his hands from trembling. Jack was like a shark, any bit of vulnerability Rhys showed called him like blood, and he’d already show too much reluctance. “Nu-uh. I distinctly remember asking for your mouth, not your hands.”

Resigned, Rhys linked his hands behind his back and began grasping at Jack’s pants button with his teeth. In terms of the things that Jack had already put him through, this was almost innocuous, but still, the eyes of most of the senior staff on him as he struggled to get Jack’s cock in his mouth was uniquely embarrassing.

“All right,” Jack said, not even looking down at Rhys. “Let’s get this started. Human Resources: thrill me.”

Rhys got the button out and started on the zipper, pulling it with his teeth, and behind him someone started talking about performance reviews. Jack wasn’t paying any attention to him, even when he finally got Jack’s cock in his mouth. He started sucking in earnest, because if nothing else, maybe he could make Jack pay attention to him with sheer technique.

He had had Jack’s dick in his mouth enough to know what he liked, but it was considerably harder to deliver when a room full of people where looking at him. He was ashamed, and maybe a little turned on, but mostly would have much rathered to do the same thing without the eyes of Hyperion’s top men on him.

“Well that was fucking boring. Finance Department, you’re up.”

He managed to get Jack’s dick into his throat, but gagged quickly. He tried to back out of his ambitious deep-throating attempt, but Jack splayed a hand in his hair and kept him in place, choking on Jack’s cock. Rhys had no leverage to speak of, and when he had moved his hands from behind his back on instinct to try and dislodge the thing that was choking him, Jack had kicked him savagely in the balls.

Rhys would have doubled over, but Jack’s hand kept him in place, gasping and crying, and wanting desperately to shield his balls. Relatively young dogs could learn new tricks though, so Rhys kept his hands behind him for his balls’ sake.

“R&D, let’s wrap this shindig up.”

It seemed impossible that the whole meeting had happened, but to be fair, Rhys hadn’t been paying the most attention—or any, really. Not that it had necessarily gone according to plan; Handsome Jack was known for derailing meetings and starting and stopping them as he pleased. 

More accurately, Handsome Jack was known to whatever he pleased in all aspects of life.

Rhys’s eyes were running pretty much continuously as he retched on Jack’s cock and prayed that the meeting would actually end soon. Every time he thought his throat had relaxed and maybe he was going to stop gagging, Jack would thrust into his throat or pull him closer by the hand in his hair, and Rhys would find himself sputtering on cock again.

“All right!” Jack shouted, interrupting whoever was presenting now. “Enough. For fuck’s sake, this was boring. And if it’s this boring next time, at least a few of you will be leaving through the airlock. Now get out!”

That was all the warning Rhys got, and then Jack was cumming down his throat.

Jack used his handhold on Rhys to yank him up onto Jack’s lap. Rhys squawked, off balance, and tried to catch himself on Jack. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see that some of the assorted department heads hadn’t left, and were staring at him like he was lunch.

Jack pulled Rhys’s head in close next to his to whisper in his ear. “You wanted my attention, right?” he hissed in Rhys’s ear. “That’s what that little show was about right? Well, you’ve got my full attention now, kiddo, and you’re going to pay for that with your ass.” Rhys shuddered, wondering how literal Jack was being and whether or not ass his could take it. “Some of my underlings are sticking around, seems like they want to see you get fucked. Why don’t you invite them proper?”

Rhys shut his eyes tightly, even as Jack wrenched his head around, so he knew he was facing them. “Please,” Rhys said hoarsely. “Please stay and watch me get fucked.”

Jack laughed, and Rhys opened his eyes. The remains of the half-circle had closed ranks around Jack’s desk, and Rhys was staring at them when Jack slammed him into the desk. His stomach caught on the edge of the desk and Rhys choked, the breath knocked out of him. 

“Keep your arms at the edge of the desk and your eyes on your fanclub, princess,” Jack said, rummaging through a drawer for what Rhys was praying was lube. 

He dutifully grabbed the edge of the desk and tilted his head up. Directly in front of him was Nakayama, sneering, and Rhys would have absolutely closed his eyes if he wasn’t sure Nakayama would tattle. Rhys’s pants were pulled off swiftly, and Jack’s fingers were at his ass, lubed, but as upsettingly large as usual.

The first finger inside him was jabbed in him roughly, and the second before he was entirely prepared. By the time the third finger was being moved about inside him, Rhys was getting worried. It wasn’t like Jack hadn’t stretched Rhys out before, hadn’t spent full afternoons stuffing Rhys full and uncomfortable and wide, but there was something different about this. This was almost perfunctory, and painful, and apparently not stopping, because Jack’s fourth massive finger was burrowing into him.

Rhys yelped, turning his head to the side, needing to be out of Nakayama’s gleeful gaze, and instead found himself staring at Henderson, which was maybe actually worse. “Jack, wait—” Rhys cried, worried that his ass couldn’t handle what Jack was trying to dish out.

“Rhysie, shut your frickin’ mouth, or I’ll have it shut permanently.”

Rhys swallowed hard, looking desperately at the men leering at him, hoping someone would take pity on him, help him, say something, anything. So many eyes on him, and watching him, watching Jack mold him and maybe break him, and no one was saying anything.

It would have been nicer for him if could have barely felt the pinky, but it was not the case. Jack’s pinky hurt, the stretch of his knuckles hurt, the way his ass clamped down on Jack’s wrist hurt, and Rhys was pinned. His insides were throbbing, cramping, and he couldn’t move.

Someone said, “I think he’s crying,” and then Rhys realized he was, in fact, crying. Jack’s hand had all but carved a place within him, and it was agonizing. His legs were shaking and he tried to move away from the hand, but there was nowhere to go. 

Jack chuckled, pushing the hand further into him and making Rhys worried he might vomit. “Doing good, Rhysie. Give me another few minutes, then I’m going to fit the other one in, too. Then you can thank these fine gentlemen for their behavior with your tongue, huh, cupcake?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want something special for the 31st where the prompt is blank, hit me up here or on tumblr <3


	9. Day Twenty-Seven: Branding and Temperature Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm cheating bc it's really just branding but i'm counting it as both because i was finally on the mend and then my dear friend got me sick af again
> 
> this chapter contains: branding with a laser, bondage, that's it the that's the whole story

Rhys was pretty sure most hospital beds didn’t have metal restraints. He was beginning to become accustomed to being immobile on hospital beds (and wasn’t that upsetting on it’s own), but the metal restraints were cold and unyielding and he hated them instantly.

“How you doing kiddo?” Handsome Jack’s back was to him, and he was fiddling with some machine, and really it could only end with Rhys hurting more because everything ended with Rhys hurting.

“Me?” Rhys asked, voice high pitched and barely staving off panic. Jack had told him to close his eyes and lie down and he had just done it, like an idiot. It was harder because he couldn’t see what Handsome Jack was doing, didn’t now what the machine actually did.

Jack groaned, looking over his shoulder at Rhys. “No, the other dipshit I have strapped to a table. Yes, you. But you know what? Question canceled. You’re doing fine because I said you’re doing fine, and I’m glad we had this talk.” 

Rhys swallowed hard, tugging at his restraints. He was nervous clammy, heart beating wildly in his chest.

“Ah ha, perfect!” Jack crowed, stepping away from the machine, and moving it, so it hovered over Rhys’s chest, a long metal protrusion extending outwards and over Rhys’s chest. 

Rhys’s ECHO eye identified it as a laser, which was both extremely helpful and also very very unhelpful in that now Rhys knew what was pointed at his chest, but it was also still a laser. “Wait—Handsome Jack, wait, what are you doing with that?”

Jack smirked at him. “Well, pumpkin, I think that would be obvious. I like leaving my mark on things. Seems like I’m way over due in marking you up. Consider this me rectifying my oversight.” He pressed a button on the side of the laser and winked at Rhys. “Might wanna close your eyes, kitten, it’s going to get bright.”

Rhys closed his eyes immediately, but the laser was bright enough that he could see it burning through his eyelids. There was a long moment of faint buzzing and bright lights before he felt the pain on his chest, and then he screamed. Everything froze and then he was overcome, tense and tugging and struggling against his bindings as the laser etched into his skin. It was excruciating, burning, hot white pain, and he was sobbing as he fought. 

He could feel the laser moving, but the whole left side of his chest felt so flayed that he couldn’t make out a shape. It was hot, the hottest thing he had ever felt, like maybe the entire sun was on his chest and his head was pounding. His chest felt wet, but it could have been blood or sweat or anything, but he knew better than to open his eyes.

There was a grating sound, harsh and shrill, and when he took a desperate breath he realized it was himself, screaming. He could hear Jack laughing in the background, too, loud and harsh.

The light faded after what must have been centuries, but the pain remained as though nothing had changed. Gasping, Rhys opened his eyes and looked down at his chest. Burnt there, red and black and charred was a large Hyperion “H” right over his heart. He took a shaky breath in and then smelled the burnt flesh and gagged.

“Nice, right?”

Rhys was shaking all over, his chest still burning and muscles tense and spasming. 

Jack loomed over him, plastic smile and hard eyes. “Now, now, take some breaths, Rhysie. You go into shock, you’re gonna ruin my night, and then neither of us will be happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow is going to be some really nasty ovi porn for xenophilia but i haven't started it yet, so if there is a gross pandoran thing you'd like to read about fucking rhys, hit me up


	10. Day Twenty-Eight: Xenophilia (and Oviposition) and Swallowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is terrible and i'm sorry but also i've got a massive fever so maybe i hallucinated this chapter idk
> 
> this chapter has: THRESHER FUCKING, oviposition, vomit, egg vomit!!, casual reference to enemas, and like V DUB-CON as usual
> 
> unbeta'd bc it's horrifying

R&D was quiet again. Rhys was more than wary after his first visit there, but Jack had all but dragged him, and saying no to Handsome Jack wasn’t something that Rhys was getting better at. The containment cell that Jack brought him to this time was empty except for one very regular looking thresher.

“Full stop, kiddo, we’re here.” Jack was grinning, but his eyes were cold. His hand on Rhys’s shoulder was painfully tight, but Rhys knew better than to say anything about it. “This is my newest baby, and you are going to help with some more research and testing. Look at you, being a helpful cog in the Hyperion machine.”

Rhys nodded, then frowned. “What…what’s different about it?”

Jack’s hand clamped down harder, his other hand grabbing a vial off the table nearest the cell. “I don’t know, something science-y and cool with its DNA or whatever. But that’s not the important part, the important part is that we designed pheromones and that threshers will find friendly. If it works, we can spritz Hyperion soldiers with this shit,” he said, spraying something on Rhys, which made him gag, “and then the threshers should leave them alone.”

Rhys bent over and retched, coughing at the taste and smell. Compared to his last visit to R&D, this seemed as though it had the potential to easy and non-harmful. Rhys straightened up slowly and nodded. “Okay, when do we start?”

Handsome Jack released the death grip on his shoulder and clapped him on the back. “Attaboy.” He pushed a couple buttons on a panel, and the glass pane opened. “Get on in there and help Hyperion out.”

Rhys did, striding confidently into the containment cell. This would be easy, or he would be very badly injured by the thresher. Hopefully, Jack would have a way to neutralize the thresher if that was the case. Rhys frowned. He maybe should have asked about that, but the glass had already sealed behind him, and Rhys knew from last time there was no getting out until Jack was satisfied.

The thresher was eyeing him, but didn’t attack immediately, which Rhys took as a good sign. He turned around to look at Jack and shrugged. Jack rolled his eyes, and then his voice was booming over the intercom. “Time is money, kitten, and you are wasting both. Move your ass closer to that thresher or I’ll make you regret it,”

Rhys sighed and took a tentative step towards the thresher. It didn’t react beyond keeping its many eyes on him, so Rhys took that as a good sign and took another step towards it. It reached out a tentacle towards him, tentatively, and brushed his side. He glanced back at Jack again, who was sneering, handsome and collected as ever, but something in the turn of his mouth told Rhys that he knew something worse was yet to befall him.

He was still facing Jack when the tentative touch turned into a tug, and Rhys was stumbling into a mess of tentacles. The tentacles wound around his ankles and waist, and as he tried to detangle himself, they encircled his wrists, too. The thing’s giant maw was inches from his face and it had giant teeth, and Rhys screamed. Jack’s tinny laughter filled the enclosure and Rhys got a sick feeling in his gut.

“Looks like he likes you! Not quite what we were going for, but better than trying to kill you. Well, better for me, anyway. Why don’t you give him a little kiss?”

Rhys was struggling against the tentacles, but they were holding him fast and tight to the body of the thresher. “Jack—Jack, please!”

Jack snorted. “What, you think I’m going to risk myself to try and save your ass? I’m like, infinitely more important than you, kiddo. Get comfortable, I think that thresher’s gonna get real intimate with you.”

Rhys struggled harder, feeling panic rise in him. Being this close to a thresher was scary enough without this one feeling him up. The coils tightened around his limbs, and as he struggled against them he could hear his pants rip at the seams. The appendage at his waist trailed down his leg, moving around the ripped cloth and prodding curiously at his ass.

“Jack, wait, you can stop this!”

Jack laughed again. “I dunno, I think this will make for some good data. Science and shit. Don’t you care for the greater good?”

Rhys opened his mouth to tell Jack exactly where the greater good could shove it, but another tentacle (and really, didn’t threshers usually only have two? Or four? What else had Hyperion done to the fucking thing?) shoved its way into Rhys’s mouth, and boy was this familiar.

The tentacle in his mouth was shaped like an arrowhead, and it forced his mouth uncomfortably open as it started pushing inquisitively into his throat. Rhys tried to scream, but he couldn’t, gagging on the thick, rubbery skin. It tasted vile, and he retched again.

The one around his waist was beginning to push at his ass. It pressed insistently at him, thankfully slippery, but it too was the shape of a spade, and it burned as pushed it’s way inside. Having taken Jack’s fist before, it was the not the biggest thing that he’d had up his ass, but he hadn’t been stretched, and it was slimy and tough and very, very different feeling.

He gasped in a desperate breath around the girth of the tentacle and tried to wrench his head away.

“Holy crap, pumpkin, I think it’s gonna make you its baby mama.”

Rhys’s eyes widened. He was physically unable to ask Jack what he meant, but he didn’t need to; he could see the series of walnut sized lumps moving up the tentacle in his mouth, and had no doubt the one at his ass looked similar. He struggled harder, but the thresher was way stronger than him. His arms were trapped at the small of his back, shoulders beginning to burn from the strain, and he couldn’t shake them free, stuck watching in horror as the walnut sized lumps moved closer and closer to his mouth.

“Say, ‘ahh.’”

He was staring so fixedly at the approaching lump that the feeling of something stretching his ass came as a shock. He was stretched wide around the lump, and then another, and then another, and then one was being forced down his throat, too, with a rush of something slippery and warm. Rhys managed a shallow breath, coughing and spluttering as another object was forced down his throat.

He swallowed compulsively, trying to clear his airway, and they were wide enough that he could feel them stretching his esophagus painfully, and thudding like a lead weight in his stomach. It was terrible in his ass, too, each subsequent egg (and at this point he was almost certain they were eggs) pushing the preceding one further into him, and his intestines were churning.

The pressure of the eggs on his prostate had made him hard, but the that feeling was warring with the uneasy sense of fullness. His stomach was aching, whole abdomen distended and taut, and his shirt buttons were beginning to pop. He really should have known enough to strip at this point.

Rhys choked down another egg, and another, stomach stretching to the point of actual pain. He tried to find Jack out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t find him. The eggs were still coming, and he started gagging again. The spaces inside him were packed and he was crying, gagging, hoping Jack would appear and save him, which was probably stupid at this point.

“You look all set to pop,” Jack said, and his voice was much closer than Rhys expected it to be. He turned his head as much as he could, and saw Jack standing with gun outstretched. “Enough science for now, right, Rhys?” He fired.

The thresher dropped Rhys, splattering him with green blood and turning towards Jack, and Rhys fell to his knees. He retched, vomiting up a slew of vile tasting eggs. His throat felt sore and raw, and even with a few gone, he still felt beyond stuffed and sick to his stomach. His hands went to his stomach and he was disgusted to feel how distended it was—bloated and round and sort of bumpy with eggs. He vomited again, shaking and in pain, and in the background he could hear the sounds of gunshots and Jack crying, “Son of a taint!”

A few of the eggs slipped out of his ass and he gagged again, still cradling his stomach. His insides spasmed, and vomited again, squeezing eggs out of his mouth and ass, gasping and shaking and slimy and disgusted with himself. Through his tears, he saw Jack towering over the defeated body of the thresher, and realized with actual horror that he was still hard.

“Fuck, look at you,” Jack said, crouching down in front of him. Jack was sprayed with green blood, but he was smirking down at Rhys as though nothing was the matter. “Fit to burst. I did tell you that this thresher was genetically designed to mature in half the time, right? Might want to try a little harder to get those eggs out of you, kiddo, before a thresher bursts through your chest. If you can’t get them all out on your own, there’s a pressure hose somewhere around here; we could just flush ‘em out, see how well you do with some intense water pressure wrecking your guts. Your choice, though. I got all day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter on the 31st i think, lemme know if there's anything u wanna see my dudes <3


	11. Day Thirty: Toys and Emetophilia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the anon who wanted rhys to lick up his own vomit: congrats! i wrote that thing!
> 
> this (the final) chapter has: tentacle shaped toys, large insertions, emeto, vomit eating, boot licking, alcohol consumption, and deep throating!
> 
> thanks for playing guys

In a lot of ways, it was Vaughn’s fault. Rhys had been anxious to spend his rare night off in bed, preferably with his eyes closed, but it was a holiday and Vaughn had been buying, so he had allowed Vaughn to drag him to a bar, and then another bar, and in between there had been some cake and some candy and possibly a cupcake frosted to look like Handsome Jack’s face.

So it was Vaughn’s fault that Rhys was a little tipsy and lot nauseous when Jack hacked his eye and covered half of his vision with the words “MY OFFICE, NOW.” Even sober, Rhys was sort of terrible at saying no to Jack, and tipsy he found it impossible to think of the terrible things Jack regularly did to him, and more of how freaking handsome he was, and how gratifying it was when Jack’s eyes were on him.

When he got to the office, Jack was lounging in his chair with his feet up on the desk. “Ah, pumpkin, there you are! I almost thought you were going to ignore me, and boy, would that have been bad for you. Get naked, I have toys.”

Smiling, Rhys stripped, sauntering over to Jack. “Happy Halloween, Handsome Jack,” he said, a little giggly. He tended to be a giggling and horny drunk, but to be fair, that usually ended well for him.

Jack chuckled. “Look at you, kiddo! Aren’t you just a lush. Looky here, I had something made for you.” He reached down next to him and pulled out a long dildo with a spade-head, iridium purple and thick and tentacle-like, with a little divot at the end so it would stay put inside him. “Since you had so much fun with my little thresher, I figured why let the fun end? Get your ass over the desk, kitten, this guy’s gonna get real intimate with your insides.” 

Rhys bent over the desk, and only gagged a little when his stomach came into contact with the desk. He assumed Jack lubed up the toy, because it pressed against his ass, wet, a moment later, and with a very rough shove, was partially seated in him. He yelped, the pressure of thing causing his stomach to clench painfully and he gagged again.

“Got a long way to go. Buck up, princess.”

He wasn’t wrong. The tentacle-dildo was long and thick, and every painful inch ached and burned and made him feel more and more nauseous and resent Vaughn more and more. Rhys clutched at the desk, scrabbling for purchase as the thing was pushed deeper into him. It finally settled in him, and his ass closed around the neck, keeping the thing deep in him. It was giant, and long, and deeper in him than anything had ever been before, and he thought he might be sick.

Jack patted his ass lightly. “Now that’s a sight. Get on your knees, kiddo, daddy needs his dick sucked.”

Rhys straightened slowly, feeling his insides shift to accommodate the monster inside of him. He was beyond queasy, and the prospect of getting on his knees was daunting. He put a hand on his stomach and retched when he realized he could feel the dildo through his stomach.

“Tick tock,” Jack said, unbuttoning his pants and pulling out his hard cock.

With a deep breath, Rhys began to slowly ease himself to his knees. When he was about half way there, Jack reached out and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to the floor. His knees hit the ground hard, and he swallowed back the bile on his tongue.

He leaned in and took the head into his mouth, sucking hard and undulating his tongue, hoping that Jack was geared up and would cum quickly, and without forcing Rhys to deepthroat him. Rhys was chronically unlucky, so he really ought to have known better.

Jack snorted. “I’m sorry, is it amateur hour? If I wanted a lackluster blowjob I could have called your mom. Suck me like you remember who I am, and what I’ll do to you if I get bored with you.”

Handsome Jack wound his fingers in Rhys’s hair and pulled, tugging him forward until his nose was flush with Jack’s groin and his cock was seated firmly in Rhys’s throat. Rhys gagged, bile burning his throat. He choked, swallowing in a desperate bid to not vomit on his boss’s cock.

“Attaboy,” Jack said with a contented hum. “Just like that.”

Rhys’s eyes watered, coughing and throat spasming against Jack’s cock. His stomach was roiling, between the dick and dildo he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold his liquor at all. Jack eased off for a moment, and Rhys pulled off of him to gasp a breath and try to swallow the bile he could feel rising. He coughed again, but Jack was already guiding Rhys back onto his cock, and Rhys took Jack back into his throat. His abs were aching as they spasmed, and he retched again as Jack slid in deeper.

He managed to get a few more breaths in, between bouts of Jack shoving his cock as far down as he could manage, and Rhys was impressed with how well he was handling himself. Rhys had just enough time to congratulate himself mentally on how well he was doing, and then Jack was cumming down his throat, and he had to push himself off Jack’s cock because he was going to vomit.

He managed to move, barely, but his stomach was spasming and he vomited on Jack’s boots, retching up bile and alcohol and Jack-cake. He knelt on all fours, panting, body spasming painfully around the tentacle in his ass, and he managed a few good breaths before he was vomiting again.

“Aw, son of a taint!” Jack kicked him hard in the side and he puked again. “I can’t believe this, you got vom on my boots! You better bet your ass you’re going to be cleaning this up, cupcake. Amateurs!”

Rhys blanched, looking up at Jack through wet-eyes. He wasn’t about to say no to Jack when he was mad, but he couldn’t possibly mean—no, he almost certain did mean that. Rhys took a few panicky breaths, then leaned forward to Jack’s boot and began to lick them clean. His vomit tasted rancid, and he gagged again at the taste, but soldiered on, not wanting to invite Jack’s wrath.

Jack was silent for a moment, then he guffawed, slapping his thigh in hysterics. “Fuck, kiddo, I meant with your hands.” Rhys stopped, looking at him wide-eyed, and embarrassed, and sort of panicked. He started backing up, but Jack grabbed his hair and held him in place. “You’re disgusting, Rhys, you know that? Absolutely disgusting. But now that’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to clean my boots with your tongue, and then the floor. And after this, there’s no saying no to anything ever again, you realize that? Now I know how fucked up you are, you’re mine until you die, kiddo.” He smirked, cruel and hard and still really handsome and Rhys shivered, anxious and also sort of turned on, and very, very nauseous. “Welcome to the rest of your life, pumpkin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey thanks for reading this nonsense! i take prompts and commissions if you wanna help me pay my bills! ilu all and good night

**Author's Note:**

> hello I am gabe racetrackthehiggins feel free to give me ideas for further chapters or prompt or talk to me and also if you liked consider buying me a [kofi](Ko-fi.com/A0113A9L)?


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